


Like That of the Heart

by Cometra



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:45:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cometra/pseuds/Cometra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet. -Plato</em>
</p><p>After a series of events leaves Gaerwyn Trevelyan sleeping on the couch of a friend, she begins searching for a  new residence. Upon finding an unusual ad for a new living situation, Gaerwyn turns her search to Skyhold apartments and meets her new roommate, Cullen Rutherford. ...The advertisement probably should have listed him as one of the amenities.</p><p>While she settles into her new life, Gaerwyn tries to abandon secrets from her former one. Those secrets soon become impossible to hide in the face of her and Cullen's blossoming relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions and Infatuation

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the prompt: "I answered your weird 'roommate wanted' advertisement as a joke, and now we're living together. The title was taken from a quote by Lord Byron.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Warning for trigger towards the end: stalker

_But listen for the coming of Love's feet. Love is a pleasant messenger to greet.- Oscar Wilde, Heart's Yearnings_

Gaerwyn pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, guiding her car towards guest parking. The charms dangling off her rearview mirror clattered together with the sudden change in direction. Her head thrummed with the aftermath of a night of drunken revelry with Dorian and Bull; the two always had a tendency to pull her into their antics, and she was hardly able to refuse. 

While none too fond of bar hopping, Gaerwyn acquiesced to their request and joined them. Upon achieving a formidable buzz, she told Dorian about the ad she had found online.

**Roommate wanted:**

-Two bedroom apartment in the Skyhold complex off Frostback avenue, building D.  
-Gender doesn’t matter.  
-Must be tidy, quiet, and able to cook. Amenable to chores and willing socialize with other roommate.  
-Must pay rent on time.  
-No pets  
-Will not smoke or use recreational drugs while living in apartment.

All of which were perfectly acceptable terms, Gaerwyn believed. She hardly wanted to live in the same space as another individual and know nothing about the person. Nor would she want to have a roommate who didn’t at least clean.

The stranger terms were listed towards the bottom:

-Willing to go on one/two hike(s) per month with other roommate.  
-Some knowledge of sparring necessary.  
-Has no affiliation with the disbanded special force titled: The Templar Order

Ah. So a conspiracy theorist then, Gaerwyn had mused while staring at her monitor. Still, the pictures of the apartment were breathtaking. Skyhold was known for being a high-end apartment complex, and the rent listed was too hard to pass up. It would certainly be an upgrade from her cramped rooms in Haven.

Dorian had certainly found the entire ad suspicious. Being the protective friend he was, he insisted the Gaerwyn pack her taser and charge her phone the night prior. Of course, he also thought that she should view the apartment for the hell of it on the basis of “for shits and giggles”. Perhaps if he wasn’t as drunk, the man wouldn’t have viewed the situation with such amusement.

She shifted her car into park and removed the keys from the ignition. With the printed advertisement in one hand, and purse draped over her arm, Gaerwyn slipped out of the driver’s seat. She shielded her eyes from the sunlight, audibly hissing out in pain when realizing she'd left her sunglasses back at Dorian's and Bull's place. Did she have time to go back? The bolded numbers on her phone screen made it clear that that would not be possible. She was already shaping up to be a few minutes late.

The apartment complex loomed overhead. The architectural design emulated qualities of an old, majestic fortress. The outer walls were lined with balconies, all of which seemed to boast of how high-end the place was. Gaerwyn could feel the posh atmosphere slowly pressing down on her shoulders. She was already having second thoughts. What if this roommate was some rich, well-to-do, upper class bloke? He had sounded pleasant enough on the phone, even though she was certain that she sounded as if she had just been run through a wood chipper.

She struck out towards the courtyard, where this Cullen fellow had said was the easiest way to reach the apartment in question. The enclosed area had been converted into a garden of sorts, Gaerwyn realized. There were lush trees stretching up from the grounds, their spindly fingers reaching out to provide shade for the passerby below. A gazebo was set near the center with a table and chairs set up within its confines. Gaerwyn spotted a few vegetable and flower gardens- plots that were probably maintained by the first-floor residents. After taking in the sights for a moment, Gaerwyn turned her attentions to building D.

If the apartment was anything like the pictures, she wasn’t sure she could pass up living here. Of course, that also depended on what sort of fellow Cullen turned out to be. University had made it clear that while the amenities may be quite lovely, a fuckwad roommate could diminish anything.

She reached the sixth floor without any hassle and approached the door. It wasn’t furnished with any festive décor, giving no indication of what the resident within may be like. The nameplate underneath the apartment letter read “Rutherford.” Huh. Sounds like old money.

Gaerwyn wrapped on the door and tried not to wince when the sound bombarded her ears. With bated breath, she listened for the telltale footsteps that approached the door. Steady, balanced… was he wearing shoes inside? Oh dear Maker…

The door opened, and in the gap stood the man she could only assume she had spoken with on the phone. He possessed a muscular build that could make the coldest of hearts melt into a puddle, Gaerwyn was sure. His hair was a warm blonde and styled in a way that kept unruly curls in order. His jawline was shaped by a shadow of stubble and emphasized by a scar that kissed his lips in a crooked slash. For a stint of ten seconds perhaps, neither said anything.

Fuck. He was gorgeous.

Gaerwyn cleared her throat. Thrusting out her hand, she smiled unsteadily.

“Gaerwyn Trevelyan. We spoke on the phone, yes?”

“Ah, y-yes,” he responded, taking her hand in his. “Cullen Rutherford.”

She should have worn something more presentable. Here he was, wearing a button-down white shirt with slacks, and there she was, wearing a red flannel blouse with shorts cut to above her knee.

“May I come in?” she asked, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Cullen stepped aside to allow her access. If the entryway was any indicator, the apartment was kept in great upkeep. The living room branched off from the entryway. Two plush sofas, a glass coffee table, and a rather impressive television.

“You mentioned you wanted a quiet roommate,” Gaerwyn said over her shoulder. “What are your thoughts on videogames? Or, to clarify, me plugging my consoles in here to play said videogames.”

Cullen seemed surprised that she was already asking questions. “I, ah, am not opposed. I would prefer that the volume be kept at a decent level, of course. If you choose to play later at night as well—“

“Definitely halve that decent volume,” she said.

“I typically work early shifts, so maintaining a strict sleeping schedule is important,” he said in way of explanation.

“Oh, I understand,” Gaerwyn said.

She slipped past him, cutting through the dining area to the kitchen. The kitchen was a small nook that was hardly big enough for one person to work in comfortably. Still, it was kept impeccably clean. Having already experienced one infestation too many, Gaerwyn opened each cabinet and drawer. She did her best to disguise the need to bolt from the room entirely with the noise she was raising up and the bout of nausea she was encouraging. Clean dishes, sealed food, and produce untouched by bugs and rats. She glanced up to see Cullen standing a respectable distance from her.

“I’ve had a few experiences,” she said in way of explanation. “Sorry. I probably should have asked before barging in.”

“I checked for the same,” he replied, taking her apology in stride.

“Thoughts on alcohol?” she asked.

“I’m not opposed,” he said.

“You mentioned you wanted a roommate who could cook.”

“I was hoping to eat one meal with you- I mean, well, one meal per week with my roommate. Just… so that we- I mean, us- or…” he exhaled. “One meal per week to socialize with said roommate.”

Gaerwyn nodded. “Not a bad idea. I can cook.”

Cullen smiled uncertainly. “The, ah, bedrooms are this way.”

He led her into a small hallway that branched off into three rooms. One was a well-kempt bathroom (thank the Maker) and the other two were bedrooms. Cullen kept his door shut, him most likely seeing no point in showcasing it.

Gaerwyn stepped into the bedroom. There wasn’t much to describe. The walls were a warm beige color, and the carpet was unstained. There weren’t any curtains for window, leaving an exposed pane of glass. What light was leaking in made her hangover worsen. She would have to fix that, she thought internally. The closet was large enough for her wardrobe and possessed a generous amount of storage space. Beyond the usual provisions offered, the room was sparse in attraction.

After checking that all lights and outlets functioned in the offered bedroom, she repeated the same process in the bathroom, living room, and kitchen. All worked. Cullen didn’t appear to take insult from her quiet inspections. 

“This is a nice apartment,” she said aloud.

She didn’t see Cullen deflate upon hearing her comment.

“I take it you have other places to look at?” he asked wistfully.

“Hm? No,” Gaerwyn replied. “You sure the asking price does justice for this place?”

“I can raise it, if that makes you comfortable,” Cullen said slowly.

She laughed. “Handsome and funny. What a deadly combination.”

Stop. Running. Your. Mouth. Idiot. Gaerwyn bit the side of her cheek. She had just met him for fuck’s sake! He was blushing. He was adorable when he blushed. If she ended up taking the place, Gaerwyn already knew she would be spending an inordinate amount of time trying to make him flush like that. She paused, making a mental note to keep the urge to flirt in check.

Cullen reached to scratch the back of his neck in abashment.

“I was actually going to ask for some clarification on what you had written,” she said, pulling the folded advertisement out of her back pocket. “You mentioned hiking trips.”

“Hiking alone is dangerous,” Cullen answered with an odd amount of solemnity. “For safety’s sake, I would prefer hiking with a partner.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a nod. “What sort of sparring did you mean?”

“That was a more ridiculous requirement, I realize—“

“I have some training with a bo staff,” Gaerwyn said, “and capoeira.”

“T-that works fine. I was hoping for a sparring partner is all.”

Gaerwyn nodded. “A sparring partner would be nice. Can't say I've had one in a few years now. What about this Templar Order business?”

His features fell into a neutral mask, giving no indication of what was roiling around in his head.

“I’m a former member,” he replied. “Currently in the process of cutting all ties with the Order. It wasn’t a good place to be. Not with where it was going.”

“I appreciate your candor.” She reached out and patted his arm. “Honestly, this feels like a steal. Am I going to find a corpse in the closet or…”

“N-no. The advertisement has exactly half of what I pay per month. I’m certain that if this was one of the more high-end apartments offered here it would be more, but, well… it isn’t.” Was he really embarrassed about that?

Gaerwyn nodded. The two adjourned to the living room from there, settling onto the two sofas.

“Honestly, if you don’t have any other prospective viewers, I’d sign my lease now,” she said. “This is a beautiful place, I’m sure—“

“The other four who came through weren’t interested,” he said dryly.

“Really? Why is that?”

Cullen leaned forward, folding his hands in front of his face. “I’m probably too honest. Since I may potentially be living with you, I think of it as necessity.” He inhaled. “The Templar Order had its agents on an addictive drug called Lyrium. Older agents were known for losing their minds on the stuff, and even being off of it could potentially kill you. I’m not taking it anymore. I’m going through a withdrawal. Some days are worse than others. I’m unpleasant. I’ll shut myself in my room and want utter quiet.”

“How does that detract from the place?”

“Admitting to being a former Templar doesn’t exactly endear you to people,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “The component that says one can lose their mind isn’t either. I promise you now, I have been examined. I’m in my right mind. You’ve probably also heard of why the Order was disbanded, and… how it ended.” It wasn’t a pleasant end; she knew that much.

Gaerwyn nodded again. “Put a sign up on your door on those days, okay?”

His eyes widened a fraction.

“I like it here,” she said. “But, if we are going to be roommates you should also know some about me. I tend to stay up late. I have a group of friends that tend to be rowdy. I’m a writer by profession, so in turn, I’m something of a homebody. Chances are I'll be underfoot without meaning to be."

“Let me know when your friends will be over?” he requested.

“I can do that.”

“Are you’re sure you don’t need time to think this over?” He was giving her every opportunity to opt out, as if he had already resigned himself to the solitude of his situation. Not the sort of bloke who thought anyone would particularly want live with him.

“I’m certain.” If anything, Gaerwyn thought, this was the most certain she had ever been. Beautiful apartment, kind roommate (time would tell if that opinion changed), and a quiet place to work.

“Then… I’ll go speak with the landlord. When would work for you to move in?”

“Two days from now?”

He balked slightly. “I, ah, don’t see a problem with that.”

Gaerwyn smiled. “Well, Roommate Rutherford, I look forward to cohabitating with you.” She stuck out of her hand, which he took in his.

“Likewise.”

“Oh. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t wear pants while I work. So if you need anything while I’m working, you’ve been warned.” She spoke casually. It had been a sore topic with former roommates… seeing as apparently, clothing was mandatory even in the confines of one’s bedroom. Well, there had been that one time where a former roommate had her beau over… and she waltzed out of her room in underwear and a thick sweater complaining of the cold.

He blushed a deep crimson red. “Understood. I’ll make sure to knock.”

She grinned despite herself. Cullen quickly averted his gaze, though he was unsuccessful at hiding the tint burning his neck. This would be interesting.

“My only request is that you knock,” she said. “If anything else crops up that needs to be discussed, shall we cross that bridge then?”

Cullen nodded. “I think that’s reasonable.”

In the time they had been conversing over the semantics of living with one another, Cullen had received a text from his landlord. The two were apparently on friendly enough terms that they saw no issue in exchanging personal numbers.

“Josephine will be up shortly with lease papers,” Cullen told her. “She’s also setting up a one month trial for you.” When Gaerwyn crooked an eyebrow in concern, Cullen blustered on. “It’s not to kick you out if she or I deem fit,” he insisted, “It’s so if our situation as roommates doesn’t pan out, well, you can leave. You can collect your safety deposit and not be fined. I’m fairly sure it’s a policy exclusive to how she runs the complex, but, according to her, only three people have ever needed to act on it.”

“I appreciate that,” Gaerwyn returned.

There was a prim, arguably dainty, rapping on the apartment door. Cullen was on his feet and welcoming in the landlord. Josephine breezed past her current tenant to welcome Gaerwyn, shaking her hand and speaking kind words. There was a moment where Gaerwyn fought the impulse to ask if Ms. Montilyet had been a used-car saleswoman in a previous life. Honestly, it would not have come as a surprise.

Papers were signed and a time was set for her to move in. Josephine offered to give her a tour of the complex and the various amenities offered, taking charge and guiding her out of the apartment with a farewell spoken at last minute to Cullen. Not that he seemed to mind.

\--

“My dear,” Josephine began, “You have done your research, yes? Have you spoken with my other tenants?”

“Why would I…”

“It’s nice to have a few friendly faces when you move in,” Josephine said. “It’s one thing to speak with Cullen. I can assure you he is a gentleman and has never caused any problems. He’ll be a fine roommate. Yet knowing me and him won’t help if you need some time away. Do you have emergency contacts?”

Gaerwyn nodded. “My two elder brothers and some friends who live ten minutes away. I speak frequently with these friends. Less so with family.”

Josephine sighed, evidently relieved. “Good. I’ve had tenants injured, but no one bothered to check on them. That is also why I stop in every week or so. May I text you with the number you wrote on your lease?”

“That’s the only one I’m reachable by,” she replied, nodding her assent. “I wanted to ask about Skyhold’s security. Is there surveillance?”

“There are cameras set up in public areas such as the laundromat and recreation center,” Josephine replied slowly. “Each apartment is equipped with a burglar alarm as well. Why?”

“I’ve had some bad luck in the past,” she said with a smirk. “As far as speaking with neighbors, I know Solas. He said that he rather likes this place and most of the other tenants. Does he still live here?”

Josephine nodded. “He’s quite the hermit, but yes. May I ask how you know each other?”

“We met while I was working towards my Master’s. He was a guest lecturer, and I ended up speaking with him afterwards. I still had questions, so he gave me his number and we met a few times after that. The apartment came up in passing once,” Gaerwyn said.

The tension in her landlady’s posture loosened. “Excellent. I’m glad.”

She offered Gaerwyn a hand. “Welcome then. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

\--

“I’m going to miss our long talks,” Dorian said with a lamenting sigh. “Whatever will I do without you occupying my couch?”

“I can think of a few things,” Bull offered. His horns nearly took down one of the cupboards in the kitchen as he turned to observe Gaerwyn and Dorian in the adjoining sitting room.

Dorian rolled his eyes in a show of irritation.

Gaerwyn handed Dorian a book, which he stored in a waiting box. She still wasn’t comfortable being back in Haven. Regardless of the place’s name, she felt anything but safe. Dorian was quick to catch her apprehension.

“Bull, how’s it look out there?” he asked.

“All clear.” From the kitchen window, he had a clear view of the parking lot and vacant tenements nearby. They were her dear friends. Yet, even with how the two insisted she wasn’t, she was beginning to feel as if she was overstaying her welcome in their home. She helped pay rent and often cleaned, but she missed the feeling of having a place of her own. In their house, she felt like a hastily applied add-on... No doubt voicing that would lead to an hour long conversation-turned-lecture on why she was wrong.

“I’m going to miss pro-wrestling nights,” Bull said. “Who am I going to watch shit reality shows with? You know Dorian hates them.”

“I do,” Dorian confirmed. “And I can’t believe you two would waste your time watching such… drivel.”

“I watch your boring documentaries!” Bull said in his defense.

“You’re simply in the room whenever one is on!” he snapped.

“Are you honestly arguing over this?” Gaerwyn asked. She taped the final box of books shut and set it with the accumulating pile of containers.

Dorian smirked. “I suppose we are. You’ll miss us, won’t you?”

“Of course. It shouldn’t be too different- my being gone, I mean. I intend on keeping pro-wrestling nights a long-standing tradition. What about our nights drinking and arguing about what book and sequel is better?” Gaerwyn asked.

He pulled her into a tight embrace. “We’re here if you need us.”

“Where would I be without you two?” she asked, her smile barely reaching her eyes.

Dorian glanced about the small apartment. The cracks in the foundation had worsened since last time. The broken window had been taped over with a plank of warped wood… still not fixed. The bathroom door wasn’t replaced either. It was propped up in the small hallway, while the hinges hung uselessly off the doorframe.

“Here, and none too happy about it,” he said finally. “Is this everything?”

“This and what’s left at your place. I think. One minute.” She walked the length of the hall, cautiously stepping into her stripped bedroom. The light shuddered to life, sputtering weakly. The small bodies of insects accumulating on the windowsill turned her stomach, and sent her to check beneath her bed. Bull had done a sweep of the apartment before she and Dorian had arrived, removing items and packing what he could manage.

Empty. She checked her closet, finding a shoebox she didn’t recall ever owning. She brought the box over to her bed, lifting the lid off with care.

She didn’t realize that she wasn’t breathing.

The rush of her blood turned to a deafening roar in her ears.

Her heart ceased beating, and then proceeded to hammer out a dizzyingly inconsistent beat.

Pictures of her. Some of her reclining under the tree outside reading. One of her speaking with Haven’s landlord. A picture of her at a nearby coffee shop. There were over fifty, she knew that much. Underneath the massive conglomerate of pictures was a note. One that she refused to read.

“Dorian!” She couldn’t curb the panic in her voice.

She heard him sprint down the hall, pausing at the threshold to see her holding the box in shaky hands. He glanced at the bed now littered with photographs and then back to her.

Wordlessly, he snatched the box away and stowed its contents inside once more. “Bull,” he called. “Is everything in the car?”

“One more box. What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving now,” Dorian announced. “I’ll get this to Cassandra,” he promised.

With that, the three exited the apartment and made for the car groaning with the weight of Gaerwyn’s possessions. She slid into the back seat, hugging a box against her chest to remain grounded. Her breathing was slowing, but the tremors in her hands had yet to cease.

Dorian was the first to break the quiet. “I thought you checked everything!”

Bull’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. “I did, Dorian,” he said through clenched teeth. “I was there an hour before you two. I was thorough.”

“Then how did this escape your notice?”

“The closet was empty when I looked.”

“So that means…” Dorian swallowed the words back. Yet it wasn’t necessary. Gaerwyn wasn’t naïve. Bull made a living as an investigator. They were all too aware of what the sudden appearance of that box meant.

Whoever had left the box had left it while they were packing. While they were in the apartment. 

Dorian grabbed her hand. “It’ll be all right,” he promised.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, fighting to breathe. New start, she forced the thought into a resonating mantra. Everything will get better.

She hoped.


	2. Where Heart and Soul May Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaerwyn moves into the apartment. Everything seems to be going swimmingly. Yet sleeping in a new place is never easy, and nightmares tend to make adjusting no easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking.
> 
> The chapter's name is also taken from the poem "Home" by Anne Brontë.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience. This chapter ended up being much longer than I had expected, but I'm pleased with the end result. The following quote is actually a stanza, but it works for this chapter, I believe.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_Though all around this mansion high Invites the foot to roam, And though its halls are fair within -- Oh give me back my HOME! -Anne Brontë_

Gaerwyn arrived at the Skyhold apartment complex just as the sun was rising. It took no convincing on her part to have Dorian and Bull join her. What with her finding the owner-less shoebox in her closet; the two insisted on driving her for safety's sake and help her carry her possessions up the six flights of stairs.

“Isn’t Cassandra supposed to be meeting us?” Dorian asked as he eased the car into the parking lot.

“She said she’d be a few minutes late,” Gaerwyn replied from the back seat. “Said to start without us.”

“Does your roommate even know that you planned to be here at the ass-crack of dawn?” Bull growled. He shifted in his seat and succeeded in slamming one of his horns into the roof. “Fuck.”

“I texted him,” she said.

“Did he reply?”

“He did.”

“What did he say?” Bull peered over his seat, one of his horns just barely missing Dorian’s shoulder and very nearly causing a collision with a parked car.

Gaerwyn showed him the screen containing the brief, mundane conversation between her and Cullen. In a blue word bubble was her first message to him.

_This is Gaerwyn the roommate. Now you have my number! :)_

His response?

_Cullen: Thanks._

“He doesn’t even use emoticons?” Bull asked in silent horror. “I don’t know if I can trust him.”

The Qunari took the phone and scrolled through the remainder of the messages. Gaerwyn had texted around five in the morning.

_Gaerwyn: Hey, is it all right with you if I start moving my stuff in around six? Don’t want to wake you._

_Cullen: That’s fine._

_Gaerwyn: Great! Three of my friends will be helping me. If there are strangers in the apartment, chances are that I let them in._

_Cullen: Thanks for letting me know._

_Gaerwyn: Should we be quiet?_

His final, eloquent reply: _Not necessary. I’ll probably see you as I’m leaving for work._

_Gaerwyn: Great. Thanks._

“Shit, I can’t tell if he’s the quiet type or just a dick,” Bull groaned. He returned the phone to Gaerwyn. “I don’t like this.”

Dorian sighed loudly. “Bull, we’ve talked about this.”

“But—“

“Meet him first, and then judge him harshly. If I have to be patient, then so do you,” Dorian said with a sniff. He pulled the car into a space staring directly into the courtyard and then shifted the vehicle into park. “Tell me this building has an elevator.”

“I didn’t see one,” Gaerwyn said.

“Ask your roommate!” Dorian’s voice took on a sharp edge of exasperation.

She texted Cullen and was pleasantly surprised by how promptly he replied.

“It’s out of order,” Gaerwyn informed them.

“If I have to cancel my appointments tomorrow because I’m hauling your boxes up six flights of stairs, you’re sending apology letters to each of my patients,” Dorian growled. “You are so lucky that we’re best friends. I wouldn’t break my back for just anyone!”

“Thank you, Dorian.” Gaerwyn bit down on her lip to refrain from cackling as Dorian stepped out of the car, grumbling all the while, and proceeded to remove her things from the trunk.

A sleek black car turned into the parking lot, sliding easily into the space next to the over-laden car. In the early morning light, the exterior gleamed with the dulcet orange hues that only a sunrise could herald. A few dents marred the otherwise flawless paintjob, a la the driver’s frustration being taken out on an inanimate object.

“Cassandra!” Gaerwyn called out. She stepped over to the driver’s side, only to hop out of the way when the door leapt open.

A woman possessing a slim-build coupled with muscular undertones removed the keys from the ignition and slipped out. Her posture made her seem practically regal, with her carrying a commanding bearing with a controlled grace. She nodded to Gaerwyn.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Thank you so much for meeting us, especially at this time.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Cassandra replied. “I wanted to speak with you as it was.”

“Oh?” Gaerwyn crossed her arms.

“Let’s… concern ourselves with moving your things first,” she said.

The two joined Dorian and Bull in retrieving Gaerwyn’s belongings from the car and hauling them up the numerous flights of stairs.

“Tell me you have your keys,” Dorian growled. “I swear, by all that is holy and sacred to you Southerners, if you don’t have your keys with you I’ll—“ His step stuttered, and if not for Cassandra, the man would have pitched forward into the staircase.

“I have them in my pocket,” Gaerwyn assured him.

Dorian's response came in a short string of curses.

The sixth floor was reached within minutes. Gaerwyn rifled in her pocket, only to come up empty-handed.

“So I might need to run back to the car,” she began timidly. If stares could kill, Dorian’s glare would have massacred the poor woman.

As if on cue, the apartment door opened. Cullen stood there, dressed in slacks and a blazer. From his well-kempt appearance, Gaerwyn gathered he had likely been awake for a few hours at that point.

“I thought I heard voices,” he said.

“Roommate Rutherford!” Gaerwyn sang. She grinned widely when a smile twitched over his lips. Progress.

“I take it these were the friends you mentioned?” he continued.

“Yes. This beautiful woman to my left is Cassandra.” She gestured with her shoulder to her companion. “The irritable looking chap is Dorian.” In response, Dorian grumbled out a few more weighted curses. “And our muscular friend with the dashing eyepatch is Bull.” Bull raised one hand in greeting.

“A pleasure,” Cullen said with a nod. “I’d shake your hands, but perhaps that should wait.” He stepped out of the doorway to allow entrance.

Gaerwyn let her companions enter the apartment first, staying back to speak with her roommate. “You weren’t lying about working an early shift!” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving already?”

“I’m typically home around two, if that’s of any reconciliation,” Cullen replied. He removed the box balanced in Gaerwyn’s arms. “You aren’t used to heavy-lifting, are you?” His tone wasn’t condescending so much as it was amused.

“I’m a writer. I create obstacles,” Gaerwyn said.

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll set this inside, but then I must be going.”

“Such a gentleman!” she exclaimed. “Ask my mother about my dowry, good sir. She’d love a charmer like you.”

Cullen cleared his throat sharply. He diverted his gaze to try to hide the blush burning over his cheeks. She didn’t know why this reaction summoned forth an innate sense of victory, but it did.

He excused himself and darted back into the apartment. After setting the box down in the hallway, he bid the four farewell and left without another word. When his footsteps faded to a light patter on the sidewalk below, Gaerwyn looked to Bull.

“Thoughts?” she asked.

“Awkward as hell, but a good guy,” the Qunari said. “You’ll give him an earful for not using emoticons, right?”

“I have every intention.”

“Cassandra said something rather… out of character,” Dorian said, glancing teasingly at the woman.

“I-I did not!” She sputtered.

“I believe her words were ‘That is one fine specimen of a man!’” Dorian ducked as Cassandra made a swipe at the air over his head.

“I did not!” the Seeker insisted.

“Fine, fine,” Gaerwyn said. “I’d like to at least have everything in the apartment in the next two hours. That way I can focus the day on unpacking and assembling furniture.”

“Fortunately for you, it looks like your roommate left a spare key.” Dorian held up the item in question, light gleaming off the jagged teeth.

The remainder of the boxes were carried up, followed by massive packages of furniture to be assembled. If not for Dorian’s instruction, Cassandra and Bull would have been crushed by the mattress as it was lugged up the stairs. While hilarious to observe, the entire spectacle took a turn for the horrifying when Bull lost his footing. Gaerwyn bolted to hold him upright. Fortunately for her, Bull didn't fall onto his back. The move would have been completed by a few broken bones and a guilty looking Qunari.

“You sure you don’t need help with putting shit together, boss?” Bull asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Gaerwyn said. “Thank you for everything. Really, I can’t tell you how much it means that you two let me stay with you for so long.”

Dorian nodded. “We’ll miss you. Visit often, or we’ll visit you. And embarrass you in front of your dashing roommate. Don’t put it past me. I will.”

She laughed. “Duly noted. How many apology letters am I writing?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”

Dorian took the longer out of the two to say farewell. He squeezed her tightly against him and rocking her back and forth. “If you need anything,” he whispered, “Anything at all, call me. I don’t care if it’s small, or if you think it’s a waste of time. Call me. I’ll be there.” 

“Thank you,” she whispered. After Bull pulled her into a back-snapping embrace, they departed.

Leaving Gaerwyn with Cassandra.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Gaerwyn asked.

The Seeker nodded. She gestured for Gaerwyn to sit next to her on the staircase. “I wanted to ask how you were. With everything that’s happened, I can only imagine what sort of toll it has taken on you.”

Gaerwyn nodded. “I’m scared of being outside. I check the locks at least five times a night. If the curtains aren’t closed I feel exposed. I’m not sleeping well either…”

The Seeker placed a comforting hand on Gaerwyn’s shoulder. “You have a home security system here, yes?”

Gaerwyn nodded.

“Good. I want you to document everything that occurs that seems even slightly suspicious to you,” Cassandra continued. “No matter how small. The day and time, and as accurate a description as you can provide. If you’re scared, call me. If I can’t respond, I can send one of my officers.” She paused. “You already changed your phone number, yes?” She received a nod as her reply.

“What did you get from the shoebox?” Gaerwyn inquired. She tugged at a loose tendril of hair hanging over her shoulder, pulling it into a taut curl about her finger.

“No fingerprints. No hair samples. The shoe brand is fairly common, so no leads there. Did you read the note in the box?”

She shook her head. “No. Was there anything to be concerned about?”

Cassandra exhaled slowly. “It was a threat. I suspect that whoever is following you is not aware of where you moved to. Do you want me to tell you what the letter said?”

“No. Maker, please don’t. I just want to move on with my life.”

“I know,” Cassandra said. She pulled Gaerwyn into an awkward hug. “I’ll text you three times per day. If I don’t receive a response in the following ten minutes, I’ll notify your landlady and drive over myself.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Cassandra.”

“There’s no need.” All the same, Gaerwyn pulled the woman into another tight embrace.

“This is just so… frustrating. I had to sell my car! I liked that car!” She sighed loudly.

Cassandra smirked. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you.”

The two conversed for a few minutes more before Cassandra excused herself. As Gaerwyn entered the apartment, her phone blared to life with a text alert.

_Cass: Leaving now. Are you in the clear?_

Gaerwyn did a quick inspection of the apartment, finding that everything appeared ordinary. 

_Gaerwyn: We’re clear._

She then turned her attention to unpacking.

\--

Cullen returned to an apartment brimming with silence. He entered, carefully maneuvering around boxes and suitcases. Maker, how much did one person need?

He peered into Gaerwyn’s bedroom to see her toiling over a bedframe. She was having little luck in putting the pieces together and was so invested in her work, that she didn’t actually notice Cullen was there until he rapped on her doorframe- at which point she released a short shriek and bolted to her feet.

“Sorry!” he said, holding his hands up imploringly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine,” she said, pressing a hand over her heart.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

“I have a few shelves to put together,” she replied slowly. “The boxes are in the living room… sorry about the mess. I was hoping to be done putting all this together before you got back.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cullen said. “I’ll see what I can do about those shelves. Call if you need anything.”

He found the boxes easily enough. There were three. His roommate apparently had enough books to warrant purchasing three bookshelves. Putting them together was another task entirely.

He managed to find tools that would serve him well enough, and started in on the first shelf. While not a challenge, the work was tedious.

From the other room, Cullen heard his roommate humming an off-key tune to herself. He was thankful to have not walked in on her while she wasn’t wearing pants. That… that would be very like him. And very awkward.

Gaerwyn stepped into the hallway briefly to retrieve her mattress. Alone, she wasn’t able to maneuver it into her room easily. In fact, the very act of her attempting a task for two people on her own was exceedingly comical. When the mattress threatened to crush her, her roommate moved to prevent this.

“Here, let me help,” Cullen said. He balanced the opposite end as Gaerwyn proceeded to drag the mattress into her room. Slowly, but surely, he could see that she was moving in. Her closet was open and lined with various shirts and dresses. She had already assembled a desk that occupied one corner of the room, set so that she could look up to greet anyone who entered.

Together, they eased the mattress onto the bedframe. Gaerwyn flopped onto the assembled bed, exhaling loudly.

“That was not as easy as I thought,” she said with a soft groan.

“Do you manage most everything on your own?” Cullen asked, offering her a hand.

She sat up on her elbows. “What I can, I prefer to do by myself, yes.” She grasped his hand and stood. “That isn’t to say I don’t appreciate your help. Thank you, really.”

He nodded, smiling somewhat uncertainly. “I’ll, uh, get back to putting that shelf together.”

Gaerwyn gestured to the window. “I’m going to put curtains up. I’ll be out to help after that.”

Cullen returned his current project, where the half assembled shelf laid on its side. From his roommate’s bedroom, the soft humming resumed.

\--

Around six in the evening, Gaerwyn had managed to unpack and arrange most everything. Save for a few boxes of books that had yet to be shelved, her room was complete. While her work space had been reduced in comparison to when she lived in the tenement, she still found herself grateful to be living in an area that boasted a sense of security. Haven had a few benefits that, while not balancing with the many, many drawbacks, made it a place that was barely adequate to live in.

Her phone went off, alerting her to Cassandra’s text. As it had been earlier, the message asked if all was in the clear. She responded with an affirmative.

There was a soft rapping on her doorway. Gaerwyn glanced up to see Cullen now dressed in casual, lounging clothes. Her mouth went dry. How could he look so bloody attractive in baggy jeans and a faded band shirt?

“Did you want to do something for dinner?” he asked.

“What did you have in mind?” She pocketed her phone.

“I honestly don’t want to cook tonight,” Cullen said with a smirk. “I spent part of the evening putting together bookshelves for my new roommate.”

“My, this roommate sounds like a handful already!” Gaerwyn said laughingly. “Do tell me if I need to sit her down and give her a proper lecture.”

Cullen’s smirk spread into a genuine smile. “She’s fine.”

“I’m glad.” She made a discrete attempt to glance into the nearby mirror. It wasn’t anything ornate. Playing over the polished surface, she could see Cullen leaning in the doorway and herself. She looked… downright awful. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her eyes had fading shadows pooling underneath, and her clothes were wrinkled and smeared in dust. As subtly as possible, Gaerwyn tugged a stray hair behind her ear.

“I could make dinner tonight,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Cullen insisted.

“I don’t,” she agreed. “But I’m going to, all the same. Are you opposed to omelets?”

“Not at all.” He stepped to the side so she could pass, neither anticipated her arm gently brushing up against his or the subsequent flood of emotions. Her chest seized. Was that apprehension, she wondered? Delight? Excitement? Gaerwyn opted to not dwell on the potential. He was her roommate… and she doubted he had any interest in her. She knew her face was seared with a blush. Why was she thinking like this? She hardly knew him!

“When do you usually go shopping?” she asked him as she entered the kitchen. A fellow like him probably had a routine that he went by.

“Fridays, normally,” he replied.

“I brought some food of my own. Most of it is either canned though…” Gaerwyn informed him. “Didn’t know if I would be encroaching on any system if I opted to store any of it in the pantry.”

“There isn’t much of a system,” Cullen laughed. “Would you rather keep your food separate from mine?”

“That… sounds like a pain in the arse, Roommate Rutherford,” she said with a shrug.

“Agreed. Should we label what we don’t want the other getting into?”

Gaerwyn nodded. “I’m all for that. Now, I’m going to pillage the refrigerator for ingredients.”

Cullen watched from the entrance of the kitchen, an amused smirk curving over his lips. She worked with ease in her new environment, not asking where things were, so much as discovering. Where objects were missing, she would dart over to the few remaining boxes in the living room and return with her own possessions.

As if recognizing why simply standing there might inject a sense of unease into the atmosphere, Cullen made an honest attempt at conversation.

“Josephine mentioned you have a master’s degree,” he began. “What in?”

“Doctorate, actually,” she said with a slight shrug. She cracked an egg and delicately dropped the yolk into the mixing bowl. “Literature. If the dream to be a writer didn’t come through, well, I would have needed a fallback. So I pursued a doctorate in hopes of working as a professor. Not much of a fallback, considering, but still.” She looked at Cullen. “What about you?”

“Ah, um, I have a four-year degree,” he said. “I started during the last few years in the Order and only just completed it.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a show of embarrassment.

“Good on you,” Gaerwyn said, her words sincere. “It’s hard holding a job and working towards a degree. From what I’ve heard of the training Templars go through, that’s all the more commendable.”

He smiled uncertainly. “Thank you. What exactly have you heard about the Order?”

“Templars start young… very young,” she replied. “Rigorous training, rigorous education, an undeniable attachment to the Chantry, and vows meant to display devotion to the cause. Also the belief that faith and faith alone should sustain them.”

Gaerwyn whisked the yolks into a frothy gold.

“Correct on all counts,” Cullen said. “Do you know anything about the missions we ran?”

“Most were confidential, right?” Gaerwyn asked. “I’ve only heard whispers. Do you have cilantro?”

“Let me help.” Despite being exhausted, Cullen retrieved the cutting board from the shelf and the cilantro from the refrigerator. “Whispers can still have a kernel of truth,” he said.

“I probably know just as much as anyone else,” Gaerwyn mused. “I read somewhere that the Templars escorted individuals who were politically significant, and also captured people who were outside of Chantry law… not a good place to be.”

Cullen fell silent. The only sound produced was the monotonous rhythm of the knife meeting the surface of the cutting board. Gaerwyn glanced over to see that the cilantro was prepared in pieces that were uniform in size. No doubt his training had also involved cooking.

“When were you inducted into the Order?” she asked.

“Thirteen when I left home,” he replied. “Nineteen when I took my vows.” His jaw was set in a hard line.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Gaerwyn began.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m the one who asked you.”

She set down the bowl and approached her roommate. “Cullen,” she said gently, “I’d rather not touch upon a topic that hurts you like this. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. That probably doesn’t mean much since we’ve only just met, but still.” She internally cursed herself. She couldn’t just survive an evening of awkward silence, now could she?

Cullen looked at her. Only then did she realize his eyes were a bright brown. Like honey filtering sunlight. The thought resurrected fond memories.

“Thank you,” he said softly, averting his gaze once more.

Gaerwyn bit back her sigh and grabbed up the mixing bowl once more. She could have played stupid, right? How did that quote go? The truly ignorant were the most blissful? She didn’t remember. All she knew was that the statement was often proved valid, and it pissed her off to no end.

She set a pan onto one of the stove burners. Cullen had assured her that whatever she chose to add to the omelets would be fine, but Gaerwyn opted to remain simple with the recipe. Cheese, cilantro, some salt, and the rest could easily be added if necessary. All that remained was cooking the omelet... and hopefully not burning it to a fine black crust in the process.

After ensuring that he was no longer needed, Cullen moved to exit the kitchen. Gaerwyn, far too focused on not destroying the first omelet, didn’t notice when her bare wrist hovered a hair’s breadth from the pan’s outer rim. She shifted slightly, and her exposed flesh made contact with the searing hot metal.

“Fuck!” she gasped, jerking away from the source of her pain. She managed to turn off the burner with her unharmed hand while holding her other arm aloft.

Two large, calloused hands cradled her wrist. It had taken Cullen the breath of a moment to cross the distance between them and tend to the minor injury. He turned the tap on, easing her arm beneath the chilling torrent of water.

“Sorry,” Gaerwyn said, gritting her teeth together. Ah, hello, mortification, my old friend, she found herself thinking bitterly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. She tried to ignore the blush rising to her cheeks, but slowly became all the more aware that the feverish sensation was worsening. He stroked the forming welt on her wrist, dulling the pain with his gentle, languid touch. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked upon realizing how her body had gone completely rigid.

“N-no,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He nodded. “The burn is small. It should fade given a few days’ time.”

“Thank you.”

In silence, Cullen turned off the faucet.

“I’m… going to finish the omelets now,” Gaerwyn said quietly. She slipped past the man, her hand brushing lightly across his wrist. She heard him inhale when contact was made. It was a small kitchen- she hadn’t intended to touch him.

“Sorry,” she said. Gaerwyn turned the stove burner on once more, a halo of blue flame came to life and warmed the bottom of the pan.

The omelets were completed shortly afterwards. Cullen had remained in the kitchen, chatting idly with Gaerwyn as she prepared two plates. He removed a colander of strawberries from the sink and offered it to his roommate in a show of goodwill. He wanted her to know that she was welcome in this home, even if his reservations about discussing certain topics would indicate otherwise. She stuffed one berry into her mouth and scooped out a small handful for herself.

“I’ve never served omelets with strawberries before,” she said, her mouth quirking with amusement. With the back of her hand, she wiped the juice running down her chin.

“I do hope it won’t throw the integrity of the dish,” he joked.

“It should survive.” She nudged his arm playfully.

They adjourned to the dining room, speaking to some length of nothing overly important. There was something oddly simplistic in the moment, and Gaerwyn wouldn’t have minded remaining like this for the entire evening. When was the last time she had been so at ease, not constantly casting wary glances over her shoulder or flinching away from her shadow?

She bit into another strawberry, another smudge of juice edged the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, Cullen reached out and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. He froze upon realizing what he had just done. That initial sense of ease was replaced with a gaping awkwardness.

“I’m so sorry,” he sputtered. “T-that was completely inappropriate and—“

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

Cullen busied himself with picking up the plates and hurrying off into the kitchen. The sound of the faucet roaring to life met Gaerwyn’s ears, informing her that Cullen had opted to use washing the dishes as an excuse for not returning to the dining room.

Her phone’s screen came alight with a text notification, followed shortly afterwards by three gentle notes played on a piano. She wasted no time typing in the passcode to unlock the device and entering her message screen. One message from Dorian.

_Dorian: Bull and I moved the furniture from your apartment into storage, like you asked. You are now unattached to that shoddy little hovel._

Gaerwyn bit back her smile. She typed a brief response.

_Gaerwyn: Thank you. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you two taking the time to help me._

Her friend’s reply came but a half minute later.

_Dorian: I will take payment in the form of alcohol and high praise._

She laughed aloud.

_Gaerwyn: One I will need to accomplish the other._

_Dorian: You need to compliment me in order to get alcohol? …That isn’t very far from the reality of things if you think about it._

_Gaerwyn: Thank you. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine when I go shopping next. Are we thinking an Orlesian red this time around?_

_Dorian: Do not patronize me, my dear. Tevinter, if you can find it._

_Gaerwyn: Haha. I’ll see what I can do._

_Dorian: Call me or Bull if you need anything. Anything._

_Gaerwyn: I will._

_Dorian: Sleep well. Call if you can’t. We can talk until you’re tired enough to turn in._

The water stopped running in the kitchen. Cullen rushed out, not casting a glance in the direction of his roommate. He disappeared into his bedroom, the door swaying closed but a fraction. Pulling one knee up to support her chin, Gaerwyn watched in mild interest. She didn’t know what to expect from this fellow, to be entirely honest.

Cullen reappeared with a folded map and brochure clamped in one hand. He handed both to Gaerwyn wordlessly, and waited in awkward silence for her to examine the proffered information.

The brochure was probably something one could find at a national park guest center. It was worn and stained with water.

“Is this your way of telling me to take a hike?” Gaerwyn asked, raising one eyebrow.

“What? No, no!” he sputtered. “I mentioned I needed a partner to hike with,” he said. “This trail is lovely during this time of year. Chances are that this next week will be the last time it’s safe to travel before the winter settles in. I was, ah, wondering if you would want to… that is, I understand if you’re busy and won’t be upset—“

“Maker, these pictures are beautiful,” Gaerwyn exclaimed softly. Images of aspens laden with burning oranges and reds lined the trail, while a burbling stream threaded its way between the trees decorated the brochure, making the trail all the more tantalizing in beauty. She turned one glossy page over to see a small map of the trail. It was set in the mountains and was marked as an intermediate level path. “Is this actually what it looks like?”

Cullen smiled, relieved that Gaerwyn had taken a genuine interest. “Honestly, the photographs don’t do it justice.” He sat down across from her. “Would you be interested in hiking? Together, I mean.”

She nodded. “When would you like to go?”

“Three days from now?” he asked hopefully. “I know its short notice, and I—“

“That works excellently for me,” Gaerwyn interjected. She returned the brochure.

He breathed a soft sigh. “I’m glad. I usually wake up around five when I drive out to one of these trails. To beat traffic. Is that… would you be alright with being ready around six?”

Gaerwyn nodded. Cullen was uncharacteristically shy. Given his physical appearance, chances were legions of potential lovers swarmed after him. Wouldn’t that at least be viewed as an ego stroke by most? Granted, if he let that sort of attention go to his head, Gaerwyn probably wouldn’t have managed to sign the lease without impaling the pen into a wall. He was humble. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

“I’m fine with getting up early. Just… don’t expect me to be very social for an hour or so,” she said with a shy smile.

Cullen nodded. “Of course.”

Gaerwyn excused herself for the evening, deciding to go to bed earlier than usual. Thus far, everything about the move to Skyhold had gone swimmingly. She prayed that it would remain that way for a while yet.

Sleep came with the same unease as it usually did. Outside, the trees shuddered in the wind, groaning and creaking under the weight of a gale. The street outside echoed with cars driving to an unknown destination, each one bringing with it a sound like water cascading down rocks, The apartment complex itself creaked and settled, like bones being set to heal.

She fell asleep, eyes weary with fatigue.

\--

_She’s huddled in the small, dingy bathroom again, one hand gripping her taser and the other dialing for emergency services. Her breathing is erratic as she watches the locked door swell with each blow it takes from the outside. She wants to scream, but she can’t muster the willpower._

_The operator picks up, asking in a trained voice “What’s your emergency?”_

_“Someone broke into my house. H-he’s trying to get into the bathroom, w-where I am.”_

_“Miss—“ The door’s hinges buckle under the force of his boot and her last defense falls. The door splinters and is torn free of the threshold. Gaerwyn’s terror overwhelms her weakness, and she screams, her voice carrying throughout the tenement and into the crisp night air beyond._

_The man is garbed head-to-foot in camouflage attire, his face hidden behind a pair of thick goggles and a worn handkerchief. She couldn't give a good description of his profile if she wanted to._

_She holds her taser aloft, the electrodes shooting forth and impaling his leg. A current of electricity courses from her hand to the intruder’s body… and does not deter him. He steps forward, delicately removing the device from her hold._

_“Nice try,” he says, his voice muffled behind layers of fabric. He grasps her arm and hauls her to her feet. He doesn’t expect her to fight back. To scream, bite, hit, punch, and kick. But she does. All the same, he holds fast and drags her out of the bathroom by her wrists._

_She dimly registers that the operator is shouting on her end of the conversation, yet cannot make out what is being said. Gaerwyn's ankle buckles, and the intruder slams a knee into her stomach. She can't breathe._

_Can't breathe._

\--

Gaerwyn awoke in a tangle of bedsheets, legs, and sweat. She toppled to the floor and was jarred by the sudden impact of her back on a less than welcoming surface. Her heart hammered out an unsteady beat against her ribs, her breath strained in her chest. With a concerted effort, she crawled over to her closet and eased herself inside. Her blanket curled around her ankle and dragged after her in a tail, but only registered vaguely with her as she settled into a fetal position.

She cradled her head in her arms, slowing her breathing and begging for stillness.

There’s a soft knock on her door. “Gaerwyn, are you alright in there?” Cullen asked.

She responded, but far too softly for it to be perceivable. When he didn’t hear her answer, her roommate slowly eased the door open. He waded into the bedroom, casting his gaze about him for answers. He needed only to look at the blanket directing him to the closet.

Cullen knelt down, craning to see into the darkness beyond him.

“Gaerwyn,” he murmurs gently. “What’s wrong?”

“B-bad dream,” she managed to stammer. Maker, she’s shaking like a leaf.

“May I come closer?” he asked.

“I… I’m a bit of a mess right now.” Her chest was seizing with the concerted effort made to not cry.

“I don’t mind,” Cullen insisted. “May I come closer?”

“Yes.”

He approached slowly, opening the door to look upon his roommate with genuine concern. “I’m sorry for waking you,” she said.

“I’m a light sleeper,” he replied. “Don’t think on it. May I join you?”

“I-I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“Gaerwyn, you are anything but that,” he whispered.

She paused. She shifted to her right to allow Cullen space beside her. Slowly, to ensure she would not be startled by any sudden movements, he settled into the arranged space. His body against hers was solid and assuring.

“Do you have nightmares often?” he asked, his voice never lifting to above a murmur.

“They’ve become a common occurrence in the past four months,” she replied bitterly. “I find that hiding in a quiet place calms me.”

Cullen tugged the remainder of the blanket into the closet. He wrapped it around Gaerwyn’s shoulders, watching and observing for any signs of discomfort resulting from his ministrations.

“Would you like to talk about what happened? In your dream, I mean,” he asked.

“Not really. I… I’m so tired.”

“I can stay, if you’d like,” he continued.

“You need your sleep as well,” Gaerwyn argued. Her heartbeat was slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Let me concern myself with that. Would you like me to stay?” Cullen met her gaze.

In the past few months, Gaerwyn had resorted to hiding in Dorian and Bull’s coat closet when she was visited by vivid nightmares. More often than not, Dorian would check on her around three in the morning. Sometimes she would be lying awake, listening to the dry leaves skitter over the concrete walkway outside or the sound of the wind rattling the windows. He would check the locks, close the curtains, and even venture into the masses of shadow pooling in corners. 

If the couch was vacant, there was likely only one other place she would be. On those nights, he would sit outside the closet door and speak to her in quiet, gentle tones until she emerged of her own volition. He would then guide her back to the living room, where he would curl up in the nearby reading chair and drift off beside her.

With a sigh, Gaerwyn leaned into Cullen’s arm. “Please stay.”

“Here, let me see if this is more comfortable.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, easing her closer against him. “I… ah, I should have asked. Maker, I’m so sorry. I—“

“This is fine,” she said. She fisted one hand into the fabric of his nightshirt, and curled up against his side. She could smell the laundry detergent he used to wash his clothing. It tickled her nose and calmed her nerves. “Thank you.”

She heard Cullen hum his acknowledgement. Her eyes were growing heavy with fatigue, and Gaerwyn soon found herself slipping off into slumber. She wasn’t accustomed to sleep coming so readily to her. Most nights were often a battle of anxiety and racing thoughts that eventually would lead to a collapse into mental exhaustion. At least she was welcomed into a dreamless haze where, while not rejuvenating, her mind came to a momentary standstill.

He rested his cheek on the crown of her head, exhaling slowly. His breathing, after twenty minutes, perhaps, shallowed. With the steady lullaby of his heartbeat against her ear, Gaerwyn finally gave in to the deep sleep she no longer thought possible. Her last conscious thought was spent contemplating how sore she would be when morning came.

\--

Gaerwyn awoke in the embrace of her bed, with her covers pulled to her chin. The intrusive light of dawn laid a warm hand against her cheek… one which she wanted to ignore.

Slowly sitting up, she glanced about the room in mild confusion. Shifting from months of sleeping upon a couch to an actual bed was slightly jarring. Another wave of bafflement swept over her when she realize that she had fallen asleep in her closet… with Cullen holding her close. Had she dreamt that?

She eased herself out of bed, staggering in an effort to regain her balance. The hallway was a bleached in the morning light, silhouettes of the trees outside patterning the walls and floors.

Soft humming met her ears as she approached the kitchen and the smell of bacon bombards her senses. She turned the corner and was greeted by the sight of her roommate, still clad in his sleeping attire, preparing two breakfast plates. He looked up and gave her a tentative smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” Gaerwyn replied with a yawn.

“I didn’t know if you liked eggs and bacon, but I made extra…” He was blushing. There was enough for three servings. Extra implied two or three more strips of bacon. Not enough for a substantial meal and then some.

Gaerwyn smiled. “You hold me while I sleep, tuck me into bed, and make me breakfast. Roommate Rutherford, are you trying to seduce me?”

He chuckled, using his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “You had a rough first night here. I wanted to make sure that didn’t carry over into the morning. I also deal with nightmares, so I think I have a general idea of how you felt.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said. “Really.”

He nodded. Was he blushing?

From her bedroom, Gaerwyn heard her phone sing three short notes. She excused herself to reply to whoever had messaged her, expecting it to be Cassandra sending her a text to check in.

Her chest seized.

The sender’s name had been replaced with a garble of numbers. She opened the message. Written completely in capital letters, it read:

_I WILL FIND YOU_

A second message was sent. An image file. Taking but a moment to download, the picture blinked into existence. It was of her getting into Dorian’s car. They had met up to get lunch. Guessing from what she was wearing, this image was from two weeks ago. Shit.

Cassandra’s name appeared on her screen.

_Cass: Good morning. Status?_

Gaerwyn forwarded the messages from the unknown sender. She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, phone clasped in both hands.

Cassandra returned her text promptly.

_Cass: I’ll run the phone number and see what comes up, and I’ll warn Dorian and Bull. Stay inside today. Turn off your phone, unless you’re alone. I’ll stop by in the next three hours. Do you know what day this picture was taken?_

_Gaerwyn: Two Wednesdays ago? The weather was nice, so I wore a dress._

_Cass: I’ll have Bull ask around the neighborhood. See if there were any suspicious cars or people skulking about._

_Cass: I won’t let anything happen to you._

A knock on her door jolted Gaerwyn out of her thoughts. Cullen looked at her, his eyes searching and brimming with concern.

“You’re as white as a sheet,” he commented. “Bad news?”

“Of a sort,” Gaerwyn replied, turning her phone off. “I’m… not going to think on it for now.”

He nodded. “If you need to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

“Thank you.” She rose slowly, as if out of a grave.

“Breakfast is ready now. Did you want to eat alone or—“

“And leave you to your own devices?” She nudged his arm. “I think not.”

Her morning was plagued by anxiety. Even when Gaerwyn made every honest effort to distract herself, her fear was soon all-consuming. The sounds of their neighbors leaving for the day set her on edge. It took every fiber in her body not to jump when the shadow of a bird in flight blotted the sun momentarily. 

Cullen was aware of her unease. “Do you want me to stay home today?”

“N-no. Your life doesn’t need to be put on hold because I’m having a bad morning,” she said. She bit into another piece of bacon- in an effort to mask her unease as best she could.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort by staying with you for the day,” he promised. “I’m going to call in sick… it wouldn’t be too far off base anyways. I think I have the start of a headache.”

He disappeared into his bedroom. Shortly afterwards, she heard him speaking with his employer. From the sound of it, whoever he worked for seemed perfectly fine with his abrupt need for a reprieve.

Cullen returned shortly after. “I am feeling ill, actually,” he said. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit. Unless you’d like me to stay with you—“

“N-no. Go rest. I’ll take care of the dishes. Cassandra, the woman from yesterday, is going to be stopping in later.” Gaerwyn busied herself with clearing the table.

In a show of comfort, Cullen placed a calloused hand on Gaerwyn’s shoulder. She paused.

“What you said yesterday. About… being there to talk. The same goes for you. I’m more than happy to listen if you need someone,” he said. She smiled weakly.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“For this, I do.” She placed her hand over his. “Now go rest.”

He nodded, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly before departing.

She would have to tell him eventually, she knew. It wasn’t fair to him. Not when she may become a danger to his well-being. Maker… why had she been so selfish? Simply uprooting her life and leaving did not mean she had erased the threat hanging over her head. Not with this bastard.

How long had he followed her originally? Sending her masked threats and cryptic messages. She still didn’t know what he wanted. After all this time.

She carried the dishes into the kitchen and turned the tap on. The sink slowly filled with hot water, the plates floated on the steaming surface like waxy flower petals.

Why couldn’t she live in peace? For but a moment, Gaerwyn let her poorly constructed façade fall away. She fell to her knees, pressing her head against a lower cabinet door.

The only sound filling the apartment was that of running water. The echoes of which were loud enough to disguise her silent curses of frustration.


	3. Nothing Gold Can Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaerwyn and Cullen go on their first hike. While they bond, some unexpected problems arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. I owe everyone who had followed this and left me such kind words of encouragement a massive thank-you and apology. I haven't been able to write due to a lot of things, but I'm hoping to get back on a set schedule again. For now, thank you for staying with me. I am so sorry for the delay in posting. Half of this was written before the previous semester ended, and the remainder was written in one night. It was edited, of course.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Stalker

_Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay. -Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay_

The cityscape was slowly fading into the distance, giving way to verdant hillsides and slopes that would soon rise up into mountains. The countryside was alive with the vibrant oranges, rusty reds, and dusky golds of autumn, creating a near indescribable bouquet of scents. Cullen loved this time of year. He loved walking out onto the apartment balcony and inhaling the crisp air that heralded winter. The way it burned in his lungs and chilled his breath were small, precious facets of a larger whole that he had come to covet and yearn for.

He glanced over to the passenger seat, where his roommate was curled up and dozing. She wore a light jacket over a sweater and a pair of fraying jeans. Her hiking boots had been discarded onto the floor behind her seat, leaving her sock-footed. Those socks, Cullen mused, were a pair she had filched from him that morning while he was in the shower. She declared her intentions before doing so, though there was hardly any point in arguing over something he purchased in bulk.

His feet were massive in comparison to hers as it was. It showed when one of the socks started to work its way off her foot. Groggily, Gaerwyn tugged it to above her ankle only to have it slide down once more.

"We've left the city," he said to the woman.

She mumbled in her sleep. From what he could gather, she said in a slur, "There be dragons."

While he hadn't expected conversation so early in the morning, Cullen had at least hoped she would appreciate the sights with him. That in itself wasn't reason enough to be annoyed but… he was disappointed.

"Did you remember everything?" he asked her. After they set the day for the hike, he encouraged her to purchase any supplies that she may need for their trip. Particularly those that may be useful if they were to go camping at a later point in time. All of which he stored in trunk of the car.

He heard Gaerwyn grumble out a monosyllabic reply.

"Didn't catch that," he said. The road was beginning to curve to accommodate the winding mountainside.

She lifted her head up. "Yes."

From the corner of his eye, he watched as the woman slowly disentangled herself from the fetal position and straightened in her seat. The dark circles under her eyes had lessened but were still vaguely apparent against her pale complexion. When she thought he wasn't looking, Gaerwyn would drop the facade of the playful, nonchalant roommate, and for just a moment, a wave of fatigue would crash over her. Her shoulders would slump forward and her arms would move to wrap around her center. Whatever her reasons were, Gaerwyn did not openly discuss her lethargy. Needless to say, Cullen found this omission of information concerning.

He didn't press her for an explanation. While he believed them to be friends, they weren't exactly bosom companions. Maker, they had barely lived together for an entire week! He hardly possessed the right to be so invasive.

"It's lovely," Gaerwyn murmured, her eyes roving over the mountainside.

Cullen nodded. "I was worried you would miss out," he said.

"Sorry. I… it's probably obvious that I don't sleep too well," Gaerwyn said with a dry laugh.

After her first night in the apartment, Cullen entered her room on one other occasion to check on her. She was hiding in her closet again, her breath coming in quick, panicky bursts. He held her to him, felt her heartbeat reel out a rhythm at a breakneck pace, all the while with him being the solid source of support that he once needed but was never given. She clung tightly, forcing herself to be grounded in the world outside her dreams.

Other than those two nights, Cullen was unaware of how well she was managing in their shared living accommodations.

"You don't need to apologize," he said gently. "I have nightmares too. This past week was kind to me, fortunately."

Gaerwyn smiled wanly. "That's good."

"Besides the nightmares, how have you been getting along?" Cullen asked.

"I love it in Skyhold. Perhaps it's too soon to say that but… I feel safe there." she said after a short pause. "Solas and I caught up the day after I moved in. He has a friend staying with him- Cole, I think? Little odd. Still, really sweet kid. I met Varric Tethras... Maker, I didn't realize that a famous writer lived in the complex! He's so approachable too. I never thought to ask, but he offered to read my manuscript when I finished my preliminary revisions."

Cullen didn't want her to stop talking. He enjoyed her small dialogues more than he would dare to admit. Perhaps it was the way her eyes would glow with excitement whenever she discussed a topic that fascinated her. Perhaps it was the feeling of flattery he associated with those conversations. Or perhaps it was how sincere she was in those moments. She trusted him enough to let him into her innermost thoughts. At least… he hoped so. All he knew was that he had come to value those fleeting moments.

"I also met Morrigan and Kieran. I don't know how she feels about me, to be entirely honest," Gaerwyn continued. "But she and I spoke for about an hour. She works a full time job and still finds time to home-school her son. Maker, that in itself is amazing."

"She scares me a little, to be entirely honest," Cullen interjected.

Gaerwyn laughed. A genuine, warm laugh. She turned to look at him then, eyes alight with something he didn't readily associate with her. Happiness.

The laughter died in her throat as her gaze swiveled over to focus on an object located past Cullen's shoulder. Her eyes widened.

"Car!"

Cullen swerved back into his lane, wincing when the driver of the vehicle he nearly collided with shouted some choice insults in his direction.

He sat in silence, clenching the steering wheel and cringing.

His roommate dissolved into another fit of laughter.

"We nearly died!" Cullen said in exasperation.

"That isn't what's funny," she said, snorting accidentally. Her cheeks burned a deep shade of red upon realizing that the noise produced had, indeed, come from her. She clapped a hand over her mouth in abject mortification.

Cullen's abject mortification melted into howls of laughter. To avoid causing an accident, he steered the car to the side of the road and parked.

"You snorted," he said, in eloquent explanation of what he found so amusing.

She glared at him. "It just happens," she mumbled.

He inhaled sharply, feeling tears bead in his eyes.

"Go ahead," she said.

Cullen fell into another fit of laughter, his sides aching for air. "I deserve that," his roommate remarked. "Shouldn't have laughed at the face you made when we nearly crashed."

"We’re even now, I think." Cullen wiped at his eye. "Does that happen often? You snorting?"

"No," she said firmly. The side of her mouth twitched.

"Liar."

"You'll never know." She sniffed.

"Won't I?" Cullen issued the challenge. He shifted the car into drive once more, easing back out onto the road and continuing onward.

Gaerwyn shook her head, a small smile forming on her lips.

"We're almost there," Cullen promised. Gaerwyn had already turned her attention to the landscape outside, possibly in a sulk.

\--

The hiking trail was attached to a campground that nestled into the mountainside. Due to the time of the year, the grounds were deserted. With exception to the two employees running the guest center down the road, Gaerwyn figured that she and Cullen were the only people actually present in the general vicinity.

"I can see why you wanted a hiking partner," she mused. She sat with her car door open, feet dangling over the gravel while she laced her boots.

"Oh?" Cullen humored her. He stood a short ways from the car, stretching lazily to work the knots out of his shoulders.

"It's quiet out here. I doubt it's safe to be on your own," she said in way of explanation.

The sun was slowly rising over the mountain range, setting the autumn foliage ablaze. The cold morning air began to warm with the dawn and the hoarfrost slowly melted in the sunlight.

Gaerwyn looked to Cullen once more. In this setting he was completely at ease. He was smiling softly, in a sort of serene thoughtfulness. This dawn was his, she realized. While her humble roommate may never admit to it, he was losing himself in his surroundings. The city was a maelstrom of chaos that swept up all into a routine set by a maddening pace. Many enjoyed the consistency that was present there, the quickness encouraging a person to continue without sparing even a thought for a momentary reprieve. The city urged for one to not completely cease in working or living, but more so to recognize the life teeming around oneself. Here, they were two souls standing apart from that. Two souls that, for the time being, were at peace. They were alive in the quiet.

"I'm glad we made it in time," he said, finally breaking from his reverie. "I wouldn't want to miss this."

Gaerwyn finished lacing her boots. "It's beautiful," she said.

His gaze met hers, and she realized then just how intimate a moment this was. Her mouth went dry and chest clenched. She had shared a sunrise with him and… dare she permit herself to believe that was something of significance?

No. She chastised herself. It was all in her head.

And yet… his eyes carried a warmth that she couldn't discount. A sort of affection that seemed so foreign at this point in her life.

"The hike takes about four hours, there and back," Cullen said. "We should… we should probably get moving, right?"

He offered her a hand. Without thinking, without hesitating, she took it.

\--

"How are you holding up?" Cullen asked, glancing over his shoulder to take in the sight of his roommate.

"I'm fine," Gaerwyn wheezed.

"You don't sound like it," he said with a chuckle.

She gave him a pointed glare. There was no way she was going to call the hike off. Not when Cullen had been so excited to show her this trail. Nor did she intend to admit that she accidentally left her bottle of water in the car…

They kept walking, the silence hindered only by the wind rustling through the trees, or small bouts of pebbles and rocks dislodging from the path. In the distance, Gaerwyn heard the lapping of a small brook.

Cullen lurched to a halt and turned to his roommate. He proffered a spare bottle from his pack, handing it to her with a knowing smirk.

"Don't pass out on me now," he said teasingly.

Gaerwyn broke the seal and drank down half of the bottle's contents. She felt better, if not a bit nauseous when the water hit her empty stomach.

She checked the time on her phone to see that it was already mid-morning. A sudden rush of blood flew to her cheeks. Cullen was keeping pace with her. Otherwise he would have already made it to the halfway point and turned back to begin the descent down the mountainside. This was, in a word, humiliating.

"It gets steeper up ahead," Cullen said. "Be careful not to slip."

He moved so Gaerwyn could walk next to the mountainside. If necessary, she could grapple onto an outcropping of rock. She wouldn't have to risk stumbling and taking a nasty fall down the steep incline dropping off from the path.

"You don't have to wait for me," she said, swallowing back a heaving gasp. Her chest was burning.

Cullen steadied a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. I would prefer hiking with company and spending the day up here, rather than go and spend perhaps an hour or two alone."

Gaerwyn nodded. She leaned against a nearby boulder, attempting to catch her ragged breath. Her throat burned in protest over the physical activity, something that she actively ignored.

"Ready?" he asked.

Without another word, the two continued their ascent. Soon, the aspens and pines became a carpet of foliage left behind at the tree line. What remained now were craggy plants and hardy mountain flowers. Patches of ice dotted the path with white, marred with pebbles and dirt.

Gaerwyn lost her balance on one such patch, thinking nothing of it as she trudged forward. Her thoughts were not so much on her footing as they were on reaching her set goal. She felt crunch of snow underneath her boot, and then the familiar, slick, mocking surface of ice beneath.

She yelped as her body flew out from beneath her and her breath fled her lungs. The path was steep enough that she would tumble a ways before coming to a rest on a natural plateau in the incline. Protect your head and neck, something screamed in the back of her mind. Gaerwyn flailed to meet this command, only to have Cullen seize her by the elbow and drag her to his chest. He slumped back into the mountain side, easing his leg into a crevice to maintain a stable place on the path.

"You all right?" he asked, his breath coming in short bursts.

"Y-yes. I'm fine." Her words were lost in the slippery fabric of his jacket. She cocked her head to the side, resting her ear against his shoulder. Cullen's heart was beating rapidly, not as quickly as hers, but a close second all the same. His grip on her elbow loosened, and he moved his hands to her waist, where he held her tight.

"Sorry," Gaerwyn said. "I almost got you hurt there."

"I outweigh you by more than a little." Cullen replied. "I don't think you have to worry about taking me down with you."

"Oh? What if you had lost your balance—"

"But I didn't," he interrupted. "I'm not about to let you get hurt."

She bit her lip. He was a good man. Could she deny that her presence was putting Cullen in harm's way? Not just with this hike. What about them living together? What about the threat that still trailed after her? Could she risk that?

She exhaled slowly. Cassandra had a handle on the situation. She and Bull were working towards finding whoever was stalking Gaerwyn so doggedly. For now, she needed to trust them.

"Thank you," she finally said. Cullen guided her towards the stable rock wall, ensuring that she found a firm hold on some purchase or another. He released her slowly and then slid his leg out of the crevice.

"We're almost there," he assured her. "If you want to turn back now though—"

"No. I am seeing this bloody hike through to the end," Gaerwyn said. She continued the trek onward, pleasantly surprised to find that, after passing over the crest of the incline, the path flattened into a small clearing. While there were no trees, a few wildflowers marked the yellowing grass in dusky purples and hazy oranges. The final blooms of autumn- the few that had managed to brave one snowfall already.

The clearing was enclosed by a fence meant to prevent an untimely fall, and also to block off the temptation to continue hiking beyond the path's termination. Gaerwyn sat down heavily, drinking in the view spread out before her. The mountain range was set ablaze with gold, orange, red, and random patches of purple. The morning sun caused this sight to glow anew. She fought to remember every small element, every facet of this image.

"I've seen this view during the winter, spring, and summer," Cullen said. He sat down next to her. "But autumn." He sighed softly. "Autumn will always be my favorite."

Gaerwyn smirked. "Sing a song of seasons. Something bright in all. Flowers in the summer, fires in the fall."

Her roommate raised an eyebrow.

"A nursery rhyme," she said, in way of explanation. "You're living with an obnoxious writer who loves poetry. Forgive me. I should have warned you."

Cullen chose to play along. "And things were going so well. I was able to look past you being a writer, but one who can quote poetry from memory? Maker, I do not know if we can continue like this."

"Alas, I am not as fickle as the seasons. I remain constant. So too shall my thirst for fine literature."

They shared a stare that soon wavered with their laughter. Gaerwyn fell back into the stubbly grass, her shoulder landing in a clump of snow. She clapped her hands over her face in an effort to smother her blush.

"You actually said that!" Cullen sputtered. "With a straight face!"

"It's not funny when you say it!" Gaerwyn said. "Only… when you return and dwell upon how utterly embarrassing it actually was to think and then put it into words."

Her roommate laughed loudly. It was a genuine laugh that brought with it a comfort she had not experienced in quite some time. To think she would find it on a mountainside with a person she had known for hardly a week was… well it was certainly unexpected. But not unwelcome.

Gaerwyn shivered when a cold gust ran a pointed finger down her neck. Tugged the hood of her jacket closer, Gaerwyn hunched forward to keep the chill at bay.

Cullen looked off to a fleet of clouds rapidly bearing down on the mountain range. They were flat, like the edge of a blade. Grey wisps trailed off beneath it in a veil, darkening what lay below.

"Nimbostratus," he said. "We should head back."

"What's wrong?" Gaerwyn asked.

"Those clouds are coming in fast," he explained. "It either means rain or snow- neither of which I want to be caught up in when driving on mountain roads."

Taking the hand offered to her, Gaerwyn stood and followed Cullen down the steep incline. He walked with purpose, his gaze firmly set on the gaining storm. His attention was elsewhere… which explained why he lost his footing as easily as he did.

Cullen was dangerously close to the edge when he suddenly snagged his boot on a rock jutting upright. He yelped, flailing in an effort to curb his fall to the hard, stability of the path. A few scrapes and bruises were far more desirable than a cracked skull and a concussion.

Gaerwyn didn't think. She grabbed Cullen's forearm, dug her heels into the ground, and, using her weight as leverage, hauled him back. Still reeling, his fall was now directed into her slight frame. In the end, she landed on her rump with her roommate straddling her lap.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She shook her head. "No. Though… are you certain we're at this stage in our relationship?"

He looked at her, comprehension piercing through the confusion clouding his eyes. He was effectively on top of her. His chest was pressed flush to hers. She could feel his breath against her lips, warm and erratic. All personal boundaries were forsaken in Gaerwyn's effort to remove him from harm's way.

"S-sorry," he stuttered. Cullen slipped off of Gaerwyn and offered her his hand. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No." An uncertain smile was forming on her lips. The man had almost died for Maker's sake! Yet here he was, more concerned for her well-being than his own.

"We should hurry," Cullen said. "I underestimated how long the hike up the trail would be."

Gaerwyn grimaced. She didn't need to be prompted to recognize the fault she possessed in this scenario.

"Sorry," she said, sniffing slightly. "Guess I'm lucky the complex has a rec center, now aren't I?"

Suddenly realizing the unintentional implication in his words, Cullen scrabbled to make amends.

"I-I didn't mean it that way," he insisted. "I'm not blaming you, I swear."

Gaerwyn sighed. "No, you did nothing wrong. I'm sorry. That was poor form on my part. Let's just go."

In silence, the two made the descent down the mountain path. A chill saturated the air and promised an unpleasant drive back.

\--

"What do you mean the roads are closed?" Cullen snarled into his phone. He fell quiet as a garbled voice answered. After a prolonged minute or two, he said his hasty farewells and ended the call.

"Any luck?" Gaerwyn asked. Snow was falling in thick pellets, obscuring their vision and hearing. They had returned from the visitor's center, finding that the place was locked tight and the two employees had vanished.

Cullen shook his head. "Varric says that the main roads were closed about an hour ago. Maker, this was poor timing."

"So what do we do then?" Gaerwyn pressed.

"Well… I have a tent and our supplies in the car," Cullen began slowly. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. We could tough it out here for the night."

"I don't think we have much of a choice."

"Do you know how to set up a tent?" Cullen asked.

She shook her head. "No. How hard can it be exactly?"

Cullen smirked. "I suppose we'll find out, now won't we?"

He opened the car trunk and extracted a compact roll of canvas, support poles, and pliable rods.

"Roommate Rutherford… this looks like witchcraft," Gaerwyn said, eyeing the parcel in his hands.

"I assure you that it is nothing of the sort. There's bare space under those trees. Let's make use of it."

He gestured with his shoulder to the browning patch of grass nearby. They hastened towards it, where Cullen instructed Gaerwyn on how to set up a tent. There was little point in denying that Gaerwyn's share of the work appeared haphazard, ready to collapse at a moment's notice, whereas Cullen's portion was pristine and displayed year's of experience.

"Sorry," Gaerwyn mumbled.

"It's your first try. I'd say you did better than most," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm going to straighten your side up. Can you grab the sleeping bags and food while I do that?"

Wordlessly, Gaerwyn did as she was bid. Arms encumbered with the items in question, she ducked into the tent and proceeded to unpack.

The tent possessed little enough space for one person to move around freely. When Cullen entered, that area was reduced significantly. Even when trying to be considerate of the other's need for boundaries, they found themselves often muddling over and around one another to ensure everything was in place.

Gaerwyn finally sat down atop her bedroll, taking in their sleeping arrangements. Though there was enough room for two people, that area would have to be negotiated when moving from one corner to another.

"Have you been camping before?" Cullen asked her.

She shook her head. "My parents always talked about taking me and my siblings on a trip through the mountains. They never followed through. Around when I turned thirteen I was sent to boarding school and, well, that was the end of that happy little daydream."

"What's your family like?" Cullen pressed gently. He zipped the tent entrance shut, checking for any unwanted drafts with his wrist.

"My mother was in the Orlesian empress's elite army for a while," she said. "Even after she and dad got married. She wasn't very present in my life until I was about eight. Da was always busy running the family business. Prided himself on being able to manage a seaside vineyard with only a few assistants." Gaerwyn smiled sadly. "They're amazing people. Expected a lot from my siblings and I."

Cullen was listening rather intently, Gaerwyn realized. "Mother was always strict. She loved us and wanted us to enjoy our childhoods as fully as possible, but she would brook no backtalk, and if she even suspected that we were falling behind in our studies, she would sit us down in the family library until she was content in knowing that we were ahead by five months."

The storm outside was howling and pressing against the canvas walls, constricting the tent into an even smaller space. Cullen edged forward some.

"I have three surviving siblings," Gaerwyn continued. "Dante is the eldest and followed mum into serving as a Chevalier for a while. He visits on occasion, but he has a prominent role in the guard. Doesn't provide him with many opportunities to see family. We talk sometimes. He's always been a comfort for me. Jane is a researcher based in the Chantry. She was originally working through the University of Orlais, but I suppose the environment pushed her to become a sister of the church. She's happy. Byron is closest to me in age… only two years older. He's an artist by trade. We don't talk as often as I should like. His twin, Edgar, died about ten years back during the invasion on Ferelden. He was always fascinated with this country's culture, and he eventually traveled to study here. He acquired citizenship and joined up with the army…" Gaerwyn paused, a sad smile ghosting over her face. "Died in combat."

She prayed that he wouldn't compare stories with Josephine. Otherwise it would be all too clear that her family wasn't even in the same country as she. It was easier to lie and say they were ten minutes away, rather than say there was a sea between them. In her state of desperation, Gaerwyn happily invented a story to appease her landlady.

Cullen reached out, placing a large hand on her shoulder in a show of comfort. 

Gaerwyn sighed bitterly. "I wouldn't be able to tell you about the funeral. My parents called and asked that I not attend."

"Why is that?"

"We had a falling out. I assumed they felt as if I was also dead to them." She hastily wiped at the corner of her eye, failing to disguise the deeply rooted hurt.

"I'm sorry," Cullen began. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine," she said, forcing a laugh. "It's been years."

"But you're still upset."

Gaerwyn shrugged noncommittally. "I lost a great deal of contact with them when I was sent to boarding school. Lots of unanswered phone calls and emails. I think I let it hurt me more than it should." She remembered holding a phone receiver to her ear, listening as the line hummed, seeking out the other end of a conversation. She didn't understand how that sound could provide both comfort and anxiety in alternating situations. Maker only knew how familiar she was with it. The line clicked, and the usual recording answered. After years of listening to that canned message, Gaerwyn could repeat it verbatim. It was the most contact she had with her parents, their mechanical voices placating whoever called with false promises. Her email's inbox would be filled with order confirmations for books and school supplies, reminders from school faculty, but never anything from her family. When she managed to get in contact with her siblings, they were constantly making excuses for their parents' negligence.

She glanced up to see Cullen watching her, eyes brimming with sympathy. While she may have managed to maintain a shoddily constructed composure, looking to him reduced all that effort to a crumbling mess.

"Sorry," she said, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. She turned to wipe at the tears burning her vision.

Cullen pulled her into a tight embrace, as if trying to protect her from the pain she endeavored to ignore.

"I-I didn't mean to invade your space," he sputtered upon realizing the forwardness of his actions.

"Its fine," Gaerwyn whispered, nestling into the crook of his arm. "Feels nice."

The tension in his frame melted away. He rubbed soothing circles between her shoulder blades and down her back.

"Tell me about your family, Cullen," Gaerwyn whispered. "If you're comfortable with that."

Cullen chuckled. "Not much to tell. My parents died in the Blight Crisis ten years back. Our hometown was invaded. I'm the second eldest of four. I have two sisters and a brother. I fear I don't keep in contact with them as often as I should. After I entered the Chantry service I stopped writing. There were some… complications that arose." He stiffened slightly when Gaerwyn glanced up at him. She drew away from his touch, fearing her presence had become a hindrance. If there was even the slightest risk that she made him uncomfortable, she would withdraw immediately.

"Sorry," she said softly. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"For what?" Cullen asked in mild surprise.

"I get the feeling I was crossing some marked boundaries…"

"N-no, you weren't. I promise you." He reached out to touch her arm. "I'll let you know if that's the case."

Gaerwyn smiled softly. "All right."

Having informed Cassandra and Dorian ahead of time that she was going on this hike, Gaerwyn knew she didn't have to concern herself with messaging them until later that evening. All the same, she sought out reception in the small constraints of the tent with very little luck. When her message to Cass was received, she sent out another to Dorian… taking an additional ten minutes. Her phone battery was all but drained when the message finally went through.

"Is it really so urgent to message them?" Cullen asked, quirking one eyebrow.

Gaerwyn nodded. "They worry for me."

Cullen's eyebrows drew together in mild confusion. She couldn't blame him. Here she was. Twenty-seven years old and still possessing relationships that required her to keep her friends posted on a regular basis.

"It's hard to explain," Gaerwyn muttered. "There was a break-in at my previous apartment while I was at home." She bit her lip, searching for a way to gloss this half-truth with a convincing sheen. "The bloke was most likely looking for money or something valuable." She fought the impulse not to laugh at herself. "I haven't felt overly comfortable since. For the past few months, I've been sleeping on my friend Dorian's couch. I just… didn't feel safe there anymore. They text to make sure I'm fine. I don't want them to worry. Of course, I do get the feeling that my messaging them will eventually become an annoyance."

"I didn't realize… I'm so sorry," Cullen whispered. "Were you hurt?"

"A bit bruised- nothing too concerning." She didn't particularly care to go into the details. He didn't need to know about the sprained wrist, the internal bleeding, or the welt marks left on her neck.

"For what it's worth," Cullen began. "I'm glad that you're my roommate now. You're… very good company."

Gaerwyn laughed. "We've hardly lived together for a week! All the same, thank you."

For the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening, they chatted about happier topics. The storm blustered on outside, but neither really noticed. Though the wind compressed the walls of the tent, forcing the two to edge all the closer within its confines, both met this urging with an impressive alacrity. They only noticed their proximity when their shoulders bumped together. Yet even then, neither were particularly inspired to move.

Cullen checked his watch. "It's ten now," he murmured. "I didn't realize how late it was!"

"This is late for you?" Gaerwyn asked, her lips quirking.

Cullen nodded. "I'm turning in. If you want to stay up…"

"I might as well go to sleep," she said. She hadn't brought her notebook to write in or a spare novel to read. She assumed there would be no point, since the hike was meant to only last that morning.

Gaerwyn eased herself into her bedroll, waiting for Cullen to mimic her actions before switching the lantern light off. Her roommate had a long laugh over her questioning why it wasn't kerosene… seeing as all her ideas of what camping entailed came from older cartoons.

"Is that insulated?" he asked.

She fingered the flimsy fabric. "I don't believe it is. Should that matter?"

"Varric said that the temperature was going to drop significantly tonight," Cullen said. "You might not freeze, but I doubt you'll have a pleasant rest." He cast his gaze towards the entrance of the tent, deep in thought. "Take my sleeping bag," he said, pulling himself free. "I can manage without."

"W-what?"

"Templars are trained to deal with any sort of situation," he said. "I've slept with less in worse conditions."

"Absolutely not!" Gaerwyn snapped. "I can make do." She tucked herself further into the confines of her bedroll.

"I don't want you to freeze," he said insistently.

"It appears we're at an impasse." She rolled over on her side, facing the tent wall.

"I may have a resolution," Cullen began.

"Oh?"

Gaerwyn was lifted up -trappings and all- and pulled towards Cullen. He eased her underneath his own covers and pulled the zipper shut after them. He did have some hassle in doing so, since his own sleeping bag was meant to contain only one person.

"How's this?" he asked.

"Well I won't freeze," she mused.

"A-are you comfortable like this? I realize that—"

"You aren't invading my space, Cullen," Gaerwyn murmured, turning on her side. "I don't mind sleeping close to people… so long as I trust them. I trust you."

"Ah, t-thank you." She looked up to see a feverish blush burning his cheeks.

The constraints of their space made the most comfortable method of sleep for Gaerwyn to be laying partially on Cullen's form. They shuffled and wriggled about for at least ten minutes before she managed splay herself over his chest.

"Is this alright?" she asked him. "I'm not hurting you am I?"

He shook his head. "You're fine."

"Good." She smiled down at him and, for a fleeting moment, considered leaning in and kissing him fully on the mouth. Gaerwyn promptly shook those thoughts off. She flicked the lantern off, engulfing the tent in darkness. The blizzard outside had lessened in intensity, though the occasional sigh of a breeze still whispered past as they lay in quiet.

\--

She awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning. Her arms were wrapped around Cullen's middle, while his head was nestled into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. His right hand was pressed against her back, while the other lay on her waist.

"Maker," she sighed. This was a ridiculous infatuation. Cullen was kind and attentive. He didn't mind holding her, or comforting her after a nightmare, but that didn't necessarily mean he was interested in Gaerwyn. Not in the same fashion as she was in him, at least.

Reacting to the sudden movement, her sleeping roommate muttered something incoherent and shifted closer to her.

"You're a good person," she whispered, stroking his jaw. She brushed her lips over his eyebrow, expecting the reaction to be instantaneous: Cullen waking, and in revulsion, shoving her back. If anything, his embrace tightened around her.

On the wind she heard a harsh laugh. Gaerwyn shot up, all former thoughts of the slumbering man brushed aside. She disentangled herself from warm limbs and blankets, eventually managing to crawl over to the entrance of the tent.

The same laugh now, but closer. Cautiously, Gaerwyn unzipped the tent entrance a fraction, curling her finger around the loose fabric and pulling it back so she could peer outside. The darkness was all consuming. With time and patience, her eyes adjusted and the pitch black took on shadowy outlines. Gaerwyn could make out the car… a hulking shape in the storm. A nearby fire brazier meant for cooking began to manifest itself the longer she stared.

Then… the faint sound of snow crunching under boots. She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering at the back of her throat. Oh dear Maker, had he found her?

A shadow detached from the petrified landscape, darting towards the tree cover. She sighed. A deer. Just a deer. These midnight scares were starting to tax away at her health, she thought with no small measure of relief.

"Boo." A sweltering hot breath ghosted over the bridge of her nose. She lurched back from the tent entrance and released a sharp scream of horror.

Cullen bolted awake, his consciousness sharpening and goading him into action. He grasped up his flashlight in one hand and a spare tent pole in the other.

"What is it?"

Gaerwyn pointed to the sealed tent entrance. "S-someone…" She couldn't finish her thoughts. She couldn't breathe. She scrabbled for her pack, searching for her taser.

A gust of cold air hit her back as Cullen wrenched the tent entrance open and stepped out into the darkness, not bothering to switch his flashlight on yet. His stance betrayed his military training. Calm, each step calculated. After taking four steps into the night, he disappeared into the nothingness.

Gaerwyn hand settled on the taser. She removed it from her pack, waiting in total darkness. Waiting for the predator to strike. Her throat constricted with panic. What if it was him? What if Cullen couldn't manage on his own?

Maker, did she send him to his death?

Without another thought spared, she darted out of the tent.

The snow seeped into the fabric of her socks, sending a chill lancing up her spine. Though she tried to ease her erratic breathing, every fiber of her being screamed to run. Hide.

Perhaps it was Bull playing a prank in poor taste? He and Dorian, in great likelihood, could have driven up to the campsite to see if they might be of assistance. But Bull wasn't the sort to mock a person's past traumas. If anything, he went out of his way to ensure that he never startled Gaerwyn.

She heard snow crunch on her left. Gaerwyn whirled around, taser poised, seeking out the perpetrator.

"Gaerwyn," Cullen said, switching his flashlight to its lowest setting. The weak halo of light illuminated Cullen's features, betraying his cool, collected stare. "Are you all right?"

Her throat closed around a sob. She nodded uncertainly. Her hands shook to the point where one of her sole methods of self defense was rendered useless.

"I didn't find anyone," he said, taking in his roommate's current state of being. "Let's get back inside."

The tears came in a sudden, startling torrent.

"G-gaerwyn? What's wrong? Maker, you're freezing. Come on." He guided her towards the tent, all other pursuits abandoned for the time being.

Her crying worsened when she recognized three sets of footprints in the snow. While they may have been muddled at the entrance of the tent, only one pair left a distinct shoe print. The other two –hers and Cullen's- were vague impressions marked by woolen socks.

Cullen eased her down onto the sleeping bag, all the while with her babbling incoherent apologies. She couldn't breathe. She was drowning by the light of the lantern.

"Gaerwyn," Cullen whispered. "I'm here. Count to ten with me. Slowly."

"O-one," she managed to choke out.

"Good." He stroked the side of her cheek.

"Two. Three."

"Slow breaths. Breathe with me." He placed her hand on his chest. She tried to imitate his steadiness, but was only partially successful.

"F-four…" He wiped her tears, responding tenderly to the fresh ones that streaked down her face.

"Five." She breathed in, though she found herself light-headed.

"I'm here. I'm going to help you through this," Cullen said.

"Six." She was dizzy. Her chest was still seizing, but weakly.

"Seven… eight…"

Gaerwyn grappled onto Cullen's center, seeking purchase from a world that was spinning out from beneath her.

"Nine…" Cullen held her close, arms loose. He didn't dare to encourage any caged sensation.

"Ten." She swallowed sharply.

"Once more," he said. "Go at your own pace."

Gaerwyn repeated the exercise five more times. She felt weak. Her legs still shook and her arms hung limply around Cullen. Her mortification kept her gaze fixed on the tent wall.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he murmured. "I'm here."

She was crying quietly. Though she tried to staunch her tears, she failed miserably. "Someone is out there," she said.

"I believe you," he replied. "The footprints were leading away from the tent. I checked over by the entrance to the grounds and they continued past that. Whoever was there kept running. What would even possess someone to be out in weather like this?"

He didn't expect an answer, that much was obvious. "Let's get your socks off," he said. "Don't want you getting sick, now do we?"

She shook her head mutely. Taking her foot in hand, Cullen peeled the first sock back. He gently massaged the warmth back into her limbs, speaking in quiet, soothing tones as he did so.

"What about you?" Gaerwyn began. "You must be freezing!"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Don't worry about me."

He swiped an absent thumb under her eye. "I'm going to stay up for a while longer," he told her. "You should rest."

"Absolutely not. If there's even the slightest chance that this bastard comes back, I'm going to be awake with you."

Cullen smiled. "Out of the two of us, I think I'm the better equipped to deal with this."

"What makes you think I can't?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing," he replied, sincerity coloring his words. "I think you're extremely capable. All the same, you did have a panic attack. Do you feel well enough?"

She didn't. That much she knew. Her anxiety had sapped her of energy, leaving her a shaking, fatigued bundle of nerves. Gaerwyn shook her head, finally ceding the argument. "No, I'm not."

"I'm here," he said again. "I'll wake you at the first sign of trouble. Does that work for you?"

"...Yes."

Gaerwyn removed her own balled up, flimsy mess of a bedroll from the heap pooling into one corner of the tent, setting that aside for her own use.

She proceeded to wrap Cullen in his abandoned jacket and then unzip the insulated sleeping bag and repeat the same actions. He thanked her. She nodded, eyes heavy with fatigue.

Gaerwyn curled up on top of her bedroll, her pulse slowing as exhaustion overwhelmed her. She fell into a deep and unwary sleep shortly thereafter.

\--

Gaerwyn awoke to find herself nestled in Cullen's sleeping bag. Traces of his cologne lingered on the pillow, the aroma mingling with his musk and soothing her. She was safe, but also alone.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she extricated herself from the warmth. She reached for her boots... and discovered that a clean pair of wool socks had been folded and placed next to them. She smiled, grateful for this small kindness... as well as the others. Guilt twisted a knot in her gut, the accusation clear. She did not deserve this sort of attentive care. Not when she was endangering him.

She leaned forward on her haunches, pressing her head to her knees.

\--

The sunlight was near blinding when Gaerwyn left the tent. She wriggled her toes in her boots, permitting herself to enjoy the texture of wool on her skin.

She tread forward through knee deep drifts, catching sight of Cullen working over a cook fire meticulously cleared of frost and ice.

"Morning," he said, catching sight of the bedraggled lass.

She smiled uncertainly. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I drifted off for an hour or so," he replied. Grasping up a mug of tea, he passed it to Gaerwyn. Her hands shook with the aftermath of last night, tremors coursing down her arms and leaving her weary.

Cullen saw this. Of course he did. "Varric called. Said the roads were cleared of snow. It'll be a bit of a task getting out of the camp grounds, but beyond that, I think we'll be fine."

Gaerwyn pressed the mug to her lips, letting the warmth seep into her skin.

"How are you feeling?" Cullen asked.

"I'm fine," she said softly. "Ready to leave when you are."

"Once I take down the tent we can be on our way."

Wordlessly, Gaerwyn set down her mug and moved to help her roommate. The process of dismantling the tent proved to be much faster than erecting it. Though, Cullen's training appeared to give him the advantage when it came to completing the task within five minutes.

They cleared the snow from the car and packed everything back into the trunk. Clutching her tea in both hands, Gaerwyn settled into the passenger seat.

"I alerted the park rangers this morning. They said that they'd keep an eye out for any suspicious persons," Cullen told her. He turned the key in the ignition, waiting patiently for the car engine to turn over. After a prolonged bout of bated waiting, it roared to life.

After twenty minutes of navigating through massive snow drifts and down obscured dirt paths, Cullen steered the car onto the open mountain road. They saw a snow plow in the distance. It slowly turned the bend in the road, disappearing behind the tree cover.

Cullen followed at a measured pace, taking the winding turns with ease.

"Do you need me to drive?" Gaerwyn asked. "You didn't sleep…"

"It's all right," he said. "For now, I'm fine."

He yawned, but appeared otherwise unperturbed by his sleepless night.

Progress was slow going. It took a half hour to meander down the road. By that time, Gaerwyn felt an immense relief settle into her bones. She would inform Cass when she got back to the apartment, and then discuss what course of action to take from there.

Bull and Dorian asked around their neighborhood to find out if any suspicious individuals had been noted by their neighbors in the past few weeks. They came up with a few leads, but were still investigating. So far, Dorian relayed how a strange looking Qunari, three elves, and a human, were brought to their attention. The only truly condemning element thus far was that none were recognizable. In a tight-knit community like theirs, strangers were easy to spot.

Cass managed to track down the phone number used to message Gaerwyn, but the owner's alibi was solid. A woman in her mid-fifties who wasn't even in the country at the time. She had been travelling to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux on a pilgrimage when the picture was purportedly taken. She returned the night after the message was sent. Relatives were able to back her testimony. In the end, the Seekers still took possession of the phone that supposedly sent the image in question.

All seemed rather bleak. Gaerwyn had prayed that leaving the city for the day would clear her head. That she would come back and the issue would have been resolved without her there.

"What's wrong?" Cullen asked.

Gaerwyn started from her thoughts. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About the stranger from last night?"

"Sort of."

Cullen nodded. "It's going to be all right," he said.

Gaerwyn bit her lip. She hated feeling so helpless. Hated that she had to rely so heavily on others.

The car came to a halt at an intersection. Her roommate reached over, placing a hand on her knee. It had been a long while since she had felt deserving of any form of kindness. Yet there was little point, she realized, in denying that she craved it. She curled her fingers around his hand. Unconsciously or no, he took his thumb and stroked the lines webbing her palm.

At the beckoning of the green light, Cullen urged the car onward.

"Thank you, Cullen," she whispered. For everything.

She met Cullen's gaze, only to watch as his eyes drifted to her immediate left and widened in horror.

She turned in time to see a car careening through the intersection. What was seconds seemed to be eons. The car impacted against the passenger side, crushing Gaerwyn's door and shattering the windows with the force driven into it.

The airbags engaged, the smell of burnt rubber seared the air, and all went black.

_"Gaerwyn! Stay with me!"_

_"Can you hear me?"_

_"Shit."_

Gaerwyn opened her eyes, finding her vision blurred. Cullen had two fingers pressed into the pulse point on her wrist.

"Cullen?" she whispered, her voice rasping painfully in her throat. She was vaguely aware that she was lying on the side of the road. Pebbles bit into her back, but she could only make out the trace feeling of pressure. She attempted to move her right arm, but found that it was immobile, like lead, at her side.

"It's going to be all right," he promised, his words jumbled together with panic.

"Were you hurt?" she asked him.

"Don't worry about me," he said. He cleared the thick gnarls of hair back from her face, his fingers coming back red and sticky.

She heard sirens shrieking in the distance. Her eyes drooped as the lull of darkness threatened to engulf her consciousness.

"Stay awake," Cullen urged her. "They're almost here. Fuck. Gaerwyn!"

Her eyes swept closed. Cullen's muffled curses echoed in the distance.

Then all faded to nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Gaerwyn references during the chapter is "Autumn Fires" by Robert Louis Stevenson. Lovely poem. This story gives me so much license to be a nerd and read all the poetry I want.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was so fun to write.


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